


Crafting Bunker

by Cuptivate



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dwalin Is A Softie, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Fluff, Heartbreak, Khuzdul, Romance, lovemaking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-03 01:34:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13330680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuptivate/pseuds/Cuptivate
Summary: All is well between Bilba and Dwalin. Their love survived the quest and the battle. They have an understanding and now they are ready to take the next step. Will their relationship be accepted by others though?





	1. The Royal Baths

**Author's Note:**

> Visuals help me to get inspired, which is why I have created a Pinterest page for my fan fiction:  
> www.pinterest.com.au/cuptivate/

Bilba sighed as the dwarf’s rough hands gently but firmly stroked up and down her bare back, one of them attaching itself firmly around one of her bum cheeks, the other burying itself in the curly locks on the back of her head.

“Mahal, lass,” he mumbled as he pulled her lips to his.

“Yes, Dwalin?” she managed to ask before all words were lost and forgotten in another heated kiss. Dwalin was as masterful at kissing as he was in combat, unexpectedly so, but she certainly didn’t complain. 

Nope, not one bit. 

Sighing again, she happily opened her mouth to allow his tongue to enter, sending her own as welcoming committee and kissing him right back. 

He groaned deep in his throat, sending a rumble through his body. Not only could she hear it but she could also feel it under her hand which was firmly buried in the pelt of his soft chest hair.  
She grabbed some tufts and gently tugged on them, her other hand wandering up to stroke over the bald dome of his head. Sweet Yavanna, what a feeling. Better than having her hand in fresh, yeasty bread dough. Definitely. Even better than running her fingers through the rich, well-tended soil of her garden.

Her Baggins side hadn’t come with her when she entered the Royal Baths a little while after Dwalin went in. The Took side, however, was jumping with joy. Or rather bouncing. 

Bouncing was good. 

Following that line of thought Bilba shimmied her hips a little, prompting her dwarf to break the kiss and moan with his face buried between her breasts.

His hands resettled themselves grasping said breasts, his calloused thumbs gently rubbing over the hard buds.  
“Mahal, lass,” he mumbled again.

She giggled, interrupting her own giggle with a gasp when his hardness rubbed against that spot between her legs.  
Spreading her thighs a little wider Bilba rocked her hips in a lovely little rhythm that seemed to drive her dwarf quite mad, for he threw his head back, scrunched his eyes shut and began chanting words in Khuzdul through gritted teeth.

“Are you with me, Dwalin, my love?” she asked softly, stopping her movements and gently cupping his face in her hands, drawing his forehead to hers. 

He let out a long breath. “Oh, aye, Amrâlimê, Malel, I am,” he said lowly, and such a low, sultry voice should be forbidden, Bilba thought as it sent shivers through her body, from the tips of her curly hair to hobbity toes. “You are,” he continued, opening his eyes and holding her gaze, “the most amazing, beautiful, adorable, mesmerizing creature I have ever known. I have no idea what you see in an old warrior like me, but Mahal help me, if it’s truly me you want, it’s me you’re going to have, body and soul, until I draw my last breath in this life and any after.”

Now that was quite the love declaration from a dwarf who didn’t do words much. Bilba smiled and rubbed her nose against his affectionately. “Silly dwarf,” she said softly and combed her fingers through his beard.

Dwalin’s pupils darkened - she knew by now that dwarrow beards were much more sensitive than she had initially believed - and his hands moved to her hips rather decisively, his big palms almost circling her waist, holding her firmly in place.

She sighed again, leaning close enough for her hard nubs to rub against Dwalin’s hairy chest while she picked up her little rhythm once more. 

He stared at her and the utter adoration and blatant hunger in his eyes took her breath away. 

“I love you,” she whispered against his lips, “Make love to me, Dwalin.”

He growled and didn’t hesitate to follow her lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul thanks to The Dwarrow Scholar:  
> Amrâlimê - My Love  
> Malel - Pleasure of all pleasures


	2. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilba reflects on the past and looks forward to the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals help me to get inspired, which is why I have created a Pinterest page for my fan fiction:  
> www.pinterest.com.au/cuptivate/

Bilba smiled to herself when she left her room the next morning. 

She had been wrinkled like a prune when she left the Royal Baths the night before, but she had slept as good as never before, even though she did sleep alone. With a sigh she thought of the nights she would be able to wake up in her dwarf’s arms.  
Soon, she thought to herself, a warm tingle deep in her belly. Very soon. 

They had spoken about this. Ever since she managed to corner him in Rivendell to hotly question him about his terrible mood towards her, and the following rather passionate confession about his fear of her getting hurt - nearly paralyzing him after the encounter with the trolls and the runnings with the orc pack - they had managed to steal precious moments away from the rest of the Company. 

They kissed in Rivendell, about to retreat into an empty room to cuddle for a bit, when they had to leave the elven city in a hurry.  
They shared plenty of watches in the weeks that followed during which nothing untoward happened - Dwalin too much of a diligent warrior to be distracted while on duty - but they did talk a lot. Much more than she had thought the gruff, taciturn dwarf would be willing to do. 

He still treated her gruff and was rather short with her in front of the others, but he also dragged her behind a tree a few times while they gathered firewood to steal a quick kiss. 

He also let himself happily be dragged behind a tree a few times while they gathered firewood to let her steal a quick kiss - which was far more special, Bilba thought, as she was well aware that nobody - save perhaps Thorin - could drag the big warrior anywhere if he didn’t want to be dragged. 

The thunder battle was ... unexpected, but the worst part had been when Thorin shouted at her, and Dwalin was so obviously torn between being afraid to lose her and being angry at his best friend and King for his callous words, that she couldn’t stomach even looking at him that night, instead huddling against the wall, cold and shivering. 

He had apologized later, after the goblin tunnels, where he had pressed her into his muscly body to shield her from the goblin’s pinching fingers and whips.  
And after they had managed to get away from Azog.  
On the same eagle.  
Where he had held her tight, whispering in her ear what a clot head he had been, and how beautiful and brave she was, and how much he loathed to not have time with her. Alone. To see for himself that she really was uninjured. And to prove to her how much he adored her. 

They had some time alone, at Beorn’s.  
They held hands and kissed and talked. And her dwarf took her breath away when he brought her flowers from the skinchanger’s garden. She taught him how to weave a flower crown and he set it on her head that afternoon, hidden in the tall grass at the far end of Beorn’s land.

Mirkwood had been awful, but with everyone slightly paranoid and not sure what was real and what was a figment of their imagination placed into their minds by the suffocating magic of the forest, Dwalin had pulled her into his arms at night a number of times, holding her tight, burying her face into his chest.  
Those times were the only ones where she managed to get some sleep. 

She had just about managed to keep him alive when the spiders came, all of the ugly beasts going after the biggest dwarrow of the company in the hopes of a juice meal, and Dwalin certainly was a big dwarf with lots of juicy muscles.  
The elves of Mirkwood had been a disappointment and Bilba happily agreed with her dwarf that Thranduil was an arse. The warrior had been locked in a cell around the corner from the hard-of-hearing Oin, with none other anywhere near them, which was a stroke of luck, as Bilba could visit him without anyone finding out about them. Dwalin had hugged her through he cursed bars of his cell, trying to give her as much of his body heat as possible. 

She had closed his barrel last before she pulled the trapdoor lever, giving them time for a kiss. 

In Laketown they spoke about the future for the first time. 

Dwalin had told her he would make no plans until after the dragon. But if he was to make a wish it would be for her and him to be together, in whatever way she would agree. He even offered to come to the Shire with her, should his wish come true.  
She had dragged him into the broom cupboard in the Masters house after that declaration, and kissed him slowly and thoroughly, pulling on his beard and pressing herself against him as to never forget the feeling of her gorgeous dwarf’s body against hers.

They barely spoke after.  
Not until she pierced Azog’s heart with Sting and the battle was won, and Thorin, Fili and Kili recovered from their injuries.  
The King had forgiven her all the business with the Arkenstone and had taken back her banishment, begging her instead to forgive him for his cruel words and deeds at the ramparts. Naturally, there was nothing to forgive. Dwarrow could be so melodramatic.

That afternoon Dwalin sought her out in the tent that had been given to her and fallen to his knees, shaking like a leaf in fear she would no longer want him. 

Which was nonsense of course. 

But there were some tears, followed by fierce hugs and tender kisses, and she made it quite clear that nothing and nobody would make her not want him. 

And after months of more sneaking about, of stolen moments here and there, trying to keep up with the many tasks that suddenly needed urgent attention to prepare the mountain for the influx of more dwarrow in the coming spring, Bilba had enough. 

And she cornered her dwarf in the Royal Baths. 

And there their union was sealed. 

No more hiding.

It would take another week or two for the Lady Dis to arrive, and they had planned to move in together as soon as an official ceremony for their wedding had taken place. Between them, they had agreed that a complicated dwarrow courting was not the way to go, but that instead the hobbit ways would do very nicely, thank you very much. 

Especially after the Royal Baths. 

Bilba smiled again as she bounced down the stairs to the kitchens, slowing down with a little wince thanks to the twinge between her legs. Oh yes, her dwarf may prefer his axes, but he was quite skilled with his sword as well. 

She snorted to herself. 

Her Baggins blood ran cold with horror.

Most of the morning she was busy helping Bombur in the kitchen with the preparations of the midday meal and some baking for the still rather smallish contingent of dwarrow in Erebor.  
After that Bilba ventured to the library and worked with Oin to move books from broken shelves into new ones, cataloging them as they went. 

She happily bounced off to the midday meal, hoping to fall into her big dwarf’s arms, but he wasn’t there.  
With a little pout of disappointment she decided not to make a fuss, Dwalin as the Captain of the Guard and the King’s Bodyguard was busier than many, and she had already been lucky to corner him in the Baths after not having seen him for several days.  
While she was a bit sad she knew it was not unusual and not seeing him for a few days would make a reunion all the more sweet. 

With a pleased grin Bilba continued her day assisting a distracted and rather pale Balin with the daily council reports and after the evening meal - without Dwalin - she went to bed.

The next day was much the same. 

And the day after. 

And after.

No sight of Dwalin.


	3. Deflation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Dwalin is nowhere to be found and Bilba feels a fool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals help me to get inspired, which is why I have created a Pinterest page for my fan fiction:  
> www.pinterest.com.au/cuptivate/

After four days she was beginning to become a bit restless. 

While chopping potatoes with Bombur she causally asked about Dwalin’s whereabouts only to be told vaguely by a more silent than usual Bombur that he hadn’t seen him in several days and had no knowledge about the Guard Captain’s roster.

Ori had ink on his nose and was mumbling in Khuzdul when she ventured into the library, an odd feeling in her tummy. Ori didn’t know either where Dwalin was, but he shot her a rather pained look.

She probably could have asked Balin or even Thorin but she didn’t really want to draw attention as to why she wanted to see Dwalin.  
Bilba didn’t give too much stock about propriety any more but she didn’t want to embarrass Dwalin by being so blunt and she knew she would have blushed rather fiercely and might not have been able to pretend that she wanted something other than his arms around her, his lips against hers, and his best efforts to quench that needy feeling deep inside her. 

So she stayed quiet. 

Briefly she thought of asking Nori for help. The ex-thief would know where Dwalin was and if he didn’t he could find out easily enough. Bilba rubbed her nose and decided against it. She was being absurd.

But she couldn’t help herself sneaking about on silent feet, wandering the ramparts and the high walls, through the guard’s wing and even past Dwalin’s office, where a rather stiff-necked white haired dwarf with a massive braided beard sat behind the desk. Nowhere was a single sign of Dwalin.

~~*~~

Kili and Bifur took her out to the slopes of the mountain before sunrise the day after. 

Bifur was his usual silent self, but Kili was rather glum. Bilba dismissed it with a fond smile as heartache, the poor lad mooning over his elf.  
She sobered somewhat when she thought of her own nervous heartache about her absent dwarf, but firmly called herself to order. To compare Kili’s situation with hers was absurd, as hers was far less complicated and she and Dwalin were well past the initial dancing around that the beginnings of any relationship brought with them. 

While Bifur and Kili focused on checking tracks from the slowly returning wildlife and set some snares, she foraged for edible weeds and mushrooms, either to add to Erebor’s larder or for Oin in the Healer’s wing.  
Life was indeed making a first, hesitant appearance. Bilba smiled happily at the patches of white clover and forget-me-nots dotted in between clumps of tentative green vegetation.

When the three of them returned late that evening they were laden with several hares and large bags and bundles of herbs.  
Bilba also carried a basket with flowers for her own use, setting to immediately press and dry some while weaving others together in little posies.

She brought one such posy – forget-me-nots, white clover and early yarrow - to Dwalin’s room long after midnight, and left it on his pillow (her silent hope that he might open his door was crushed rather abruptly when only silence answered her knocks). 

She did it again the next night, only to stare in disbelief at the wilted flowers from the previous night. 

He had not slept in his bed. 

Her heart stopped as she chewed on her lip. 

She left another posy on his pillow, this time also adding sprigs of carpet bugle and pine, only to find it wilted and untouched the night after. 

Tears filled her eyes.

There could only be one reason for this: he was avoiding her. 

And if he was avoiding her it could only mean he was embarrassed. Embarrassed about her forwardness in the Royal Baths. Despite his eagerness on the night he probably resented her for it as soon as the fog of passion cleared. 

Yes, that had to be it. 

Typical, said the Baggins in her. That’s what you get when you have no sense of propriety. While Dwalin certainly was a warrior, he had no need of a camp follower now that his kin had their mountain back. And he was a noble dwarf from an ancient bloodline. And you were only a very ordinary hobbit lass that pretended to be special. 

Yes, Bilba nodded in agreement, shushing her Tookish side when it tried to protest, and hung her head. 

What a fool she had been!

~~*~~

“You alright?” Bombur asked her three days later, eying the dark rings under her eyes critically while he took over chopping the bull thistle roots and the tinder conk she had brought back from her foraging venture with Bifur and Kili.  
Bilba sucked on her thumb and cursed inwardly. Confusticate it all. 

“I’m fine,” she made an effort to roll her eyes at the cook, “It’s just a cut.” She didn’t say that she never had cut herself while chopping anything and that this only happened because her eyes burned from the crying and the lack of sleep over the last few nights.

Bombur hummed and let it go, even though his eyes clearly said he didn’t believe a word she said.

~~*~~

“M comes after H and T before V,” Ori said with a mild smile when he handed back the sheet of parchment where she had alphabetically listed the books they had retrieved from yet another shattered bookshelf. 

Why dwarrow, who carved furniture and even bathtubs out of the very stone they lived under, built bookshelves made from wood was something Bilba’s practical hobbit sense couldn’t quite grasp. She had never said it out loud but now that everything else was going down the drain she didn’t really care any more about holding things in and her temper boiled over. 

So she yelled about stupid bookshelves made from wood and who’s idiotic idea that was anyway, ignoring Ori’s squeal about both her sudden outburst and the noise in the library. 

She slammed the quill down, not caring that the ink splattered everywhere and the scribe’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline in shock, and stormed from the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forget-me-not - Don’t Forget Me – the flowers are edible  
> White clover – Think of Me – leaves and flowers are edible  
> Yarrow – Everlasting Love – flowers and leaves are edible  
> Carpet Bugle (a type of mint) – Warmth of Feeling – the leaves and young shoots are edible  
> Pine - Hope  
> Tinder Conk – a type of mushroom, too hard to eat like that, must be broken in pieces to stew or ground to a powder to be added to soups for added nutrients  
> Bull Thistle – essentially a weed: edible are roots, young leaves, flower buds, seeds  
> Visit http://www.ediblewildfood.com for information regarding foraging  
> Flower meanings are from a variety of sources, sometimes the sources contradict each other, I’ve picked what suits my story


	4. Confrontation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilba decides to leave Erebor for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals help me to get inspired, which is why I have created a Pinterest page for my fan fiction:  
> www.pinterest.com.au/cuptivate/ - this story has now its own board

She skipped the midday meal - as she had done with dinner last night and breakfast - because everything tasted like wool.

Which meant she was very on time to attend the meeting of the newly formed small council, taking her seat at the large stone table in the especially prepared chamber, waiting for her fellow council members to join her while staring tiredly at a point on the wall. 

Absentmindedly she watched them arrive: the King, Balin, Fili, Gloin, Dori, Dief, a rather stuffy dwarf from the Iron Hills, Guildmaster of the Merchants there, as well as Gunnar, a stout soldier in charge for the war rams, also from the Iron Hills, who had fought in the Battle and decided to stay even after Dain left, and who even ordered his daughter Gilsig to join him, the dam walking into the room after her father. 

Dief the merchant was a pain to deal with at the best of times, he was of the opinion that there was only one way to do everything - in Bilba’s mind there were always many ways and even backways and nothing was ever as black as white as the stuffy dwarf liked it to be. He also held great stock into honour and propriety, at times sounding like an odd mix of Balin’s hero stories and Dori’s prim fussings and Grandma Baggins reprimands about the way a proper hobbit should behave. Dief went out of his way to address her as Hero of Erebor with deep bows all the time and pompously scolded everyone who did not do the same. When Bilba encountered him anywhere other than the council room she tended to disappear as swiftly as possible, thanking the Green Lady for her quick and silent hobbit feet once more.

Gunnar was a little naive Bilba felt, but maybe that was because she compared him to her own father -who had a sharp mind despite his congenial mannerisms, but he couldn’t really be tricked into things and very much had his own opinions - even though he had been wax in his wife’s and daughter’s hands. Bilba smiled at the memory of her dear Papa.  
Gilsig was - very green. Bilba and the young dam worked together quite a bit, being the only females in Erebor at present, it was their task to make the newly cleared and renovated living quarters comfortable with furnishings and whatever else was needed for homely touches.  
Bilba felt like an old matron sometimes around Gilsig, who had grown up very sheltered by the sounds of it. Even Bilba’s Baggins side rolled its eyes with boredom during their conversations.

Startling from her thoughts, Bilba realized she had missed the beginning of the council session and everything that was being said when Balin suddenly put his hand on her shoulder.  
“Bilba?” his face was kind but he looked sad and somewhat worn and there was concern in his eyes, “Are you well, lass? You ... don’t seem quite yourself.”

Taking a deep breath she nodded. “Yes, Balin, thank you,” she said slowly. Looking around the table she met the eyes of all present; all of them looking at her with worry.

A glance behind the King revealed the glaring absence of her bulky dwarf with his twin axes, his position instead filled by a rather smallish Iron Hills soldier with copper read hair and beard. 

Suddenly she felt very sad. 

She had been used to loneliness in the Shire, but after finding plenty of laughter and joy in the company her dwarrow during the quest she had not expected to find that bitter feeling in Erebor as well. But now, when her love seemed to be not reciprocated and her advances snubbed she knew a life in Erebor would be even more painful and lonely than her life in the Shire had ever been. 

The feeling of not belonging anywhere - as she had accused Bofur just before they fell into the goblin cave - suddenly hit her hard.

“I have made the decision to return to the Shire,” she said, keeping her voice firm with much effort, “I will be leaving in a couple of days’ time, so I can arrange for my way through the Mirkwood with Thranduil and onwards with Beorn, well before the first snows fall.”

The silence that followed her words was deafening. 

Then they all began talking at the same time. 

Eventually the noise died down when they realized she didn’t look at any of them but stared morosely at a spot on the stone table in front of her.

Thorin cleared his throat. “Bilba,” he said with a strained expression, “I understand things ... have not gone well, but please, please reconsider.”

“You belong here,” Fili threw in, his face stern “With us.”

“Lass, we’re your family,” Gloin looked stricken, “Erebor is your home now.”

“I thought so, too,” Bilba replied flatly, seeing no point in pretending, “And it was, for a while. But it is not anymore.”

Balin reached over to take her hand in his. It was shaking. “Please, lassie,” his voice was breaking and there was so much pain in his eyes, that it was hard to take, “You will break many hearts if you leave.”

Bilba sighed and patted his hand gently. “Hearts are already broken, my friend,” she whispered, “It is better if I go.”

“All because of that kâminzund,” Gunnar growled suddenly, slamming his hand on the table hard. 

“Mind your language,” Thorin barked, giving the soldier a kingly glare. 

“Kâminzund is too good for him,” Dief said dismissively, chin set, “It’s his fault we’re losing the Hero of Erebor.”

Bilba’s eyes narrowed and she had the distinct feeling she was missing a point.  
“What are you talking about?” she inquired. 

They were silent again. Bilba looked at each and every one of them, trying to read their expressions.  
There was pity, anger, outrage, sadness and anguish.

“Balin?”

The old dwarf sighed and averted his eyes. “He does love you, lass, he has for a long time. I have no explanation for his behavior.”

Bilba stared at him, cold fear gripping her heart. “You’re talking about Dwalin?” she asked in a constrained voice, looking around the room. “What behavior? Where is he?”

Silence again. 

Gritting her teeth Bilba took a deep breath, trying to keep a hold on her Tookish blood which was beginning to simmer with worry and anger. “I ask again: where is Dwalin? I have not seen him for way too many days. Now, I know he’s a busy dwarf, but that’s still unusual. Where is he?” All busied themselves looking at their hands or some vague point in the room, except ... “Fili?”

The Crown Prince sighed. “He has entered into Itrêbmanal'ulgundu, Bilba,” he said, as if that was an explanation, “He entered voluntarily. Although he really had no other options, after ...” He made a vague motion with his head.

“After ... ?” Bilba tried to prompt him.

“After his transgressions against you,” Balin finished, tears in his eyes. 

“What transgressions?” Bilba asked, truly alarmed now. 

They all stared at her as if she had grown two heads. 

“Well,” Gilsig spoke at long last, twisting her hands nervously, “After what he did in the Royal Baths.”

What? “After what he did in the ... ” the hobbit repeated, and then, getting slightly annoyed with the dancing around the bush, in a much sharper voice. “What did he do in the Royal Baths?”

“He ... he ...,” the dam faltered, blushing, “He ... “

The hobbit’s eyebrows rose in expectation of an answer, only to be getting nowhere as no proper sentence was forthcoming, the dam instead looking as if she had swallowed a very sour pickle.

The Took blood sniggered, whereas the Baggins side facepalmed. Hang on. Seriously? Is this the time?

Banging a flat hand on the table to bring her mind back to the present, Bilba got to her feet. “What, in the Green Lady’s name, has he done in the Royal Baths. Say it now, or you’ll have a really angry hobbit at your hands,” she yelled impatiently.

“He ... he ... ,” Gilsig tried again, turning even more red under her beard, from anger or embarrassment or both, it was impossible to tell. 

“He defiled you,” Dori choked out, “He dared disregard all and any rules of courtship and propriety and had his ways with you. In the Royal Baths.” The fussy dwarf was positively red, too, and had a look of angry indignation on his face. 

Sweet Yavanna, things sure began making some sense now.  
“And which abysmally stupid dwarf has come to that abysmally inaccurate conclusion?” Bilba asked through gritted teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the little cliffhanger - clears throat - the next chapter will be out tomorrow.
> 
> Khuzdul thanks to the Dwarrow Scholar:  
> kâminzund - ogre  
> Itrêbmanal'ulgundu – Crafting Bunker


	5. Revelation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bilba explains her hopes for the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals help me to get inspired, which is why I have created a Pinterest page for my fan fiction:  
> www.pinterest.com.au/cuptivate/ - this story now has its own board

… previously … “He defiled you,” Dori choked out, “He dared disregard all and any rules of courtship and propriety and had his ways with you. In the Royal Baths.” The fussy dwarf was positively red, too, and had a look of angry indignation on his face. 

Sweet Yavanna, things sure began making some sense now.  
“And which abysmally stupid dwarf has come to that abysmally inaccurate conclusion?” Bilba asked through gritted teeth. 

…  
“I saw you!” Dori yelled, getting to his feet as well, “The door was locked and I was worried so I asked Nori for the key to the secret door to make sure you were alright. I saw you. And him.” He sat down again, crossing his arms in a huff. 

Bilba gaped at him with her mouth open. 

“It is not to be born,” Dief chimed in, “Without gaining the permission of a head of your house or a guardian in their absence ... And just to ... Without presenting the appropriate courtship gifts and signing of the mahibnêth azlâf. He’s lucky he didn’t get shorn and shaved. When confronted he immediately consented to enter the Itrêbmanal'ulgundu where he will remain until he has sufficiently fulfilled his courtship duties, as honour dictates.”

A cold grip of worry took hold of her heart at those words. Dwalin shorn and shaved? 

Judging by Thorin’s and Balin’s faces it was a real possibility. 

“Nobody is going to touch my Dwalin’s beard or hair,” Bilba said firmly, balling her fist, “Is that clear?”

“It is not up to you, Miss Baggins,” Dief explained, trying to sound reasonable, “It is one of our most sacred laws concerning dams. Considering your age ... “ he trailed off, waving a hand vaguely, “When I learned of his transgressions I immediately offered to step up as your guardian. As such it is my duty-“

“Considering my age?” Bilba squeaked indignantly, “What does my age have to do with anything?”

“Well, you are merely a child, it is beyond belief that you were even allowed to follow the King on the quest ...”

Looking at Thorin, the King’s face was pale and he clenched his teeth so hard that Bilba worried for a moment he might break his jaw – but there was guilt in his eyes.

“You do not even know how old I am,” Bilba said with an eye roll, looking from one to the next. They all shuffled uncomfortably, eyes darting to ... “Dori?”

The prim dwarf shifted slightly in his seat. “Well, Ori might have mentioned that you were eight years off your maturity after the Fell Winter, when you lost your parents and lived in Bag End alone. From then it was simple maths.” He shrugged and sniffed disdainfully. “We should never have taken you along. It was irresponsible. There is no excuse.”

Bilba had quite enough of this. She grinned evilly, showing her teeth, making Dori recoil when he looked at her. Then she marched around the table and plopped herself on the stone top in front of him. 

“How long do hobbits life, Dori?” she asked with pretend calm, casually looking at her fingers.

“Eh ... twohundred years?” he guessed with a shrug.

“The Thain, my grandfather, holds the record for the most birthdays celebrated by a hobbit,” Bilba explained with pretend softness, “He turned 110 last year, it was quite the party.” She sobered. “Although he is in good health, both in body and mind, it may well have been his last. No hobbit has ever reached that age.” She leaned forward and spoke very clearly, holding Dori’s gaze. “While it is true that I was not of age when my parents died in the Fell Winter, and I lived alone - with the Thain’s blessing and that of the whole Took side of my family - for many years, running my father’s estate, I came of age at thirty three, as all hobbits do. Which means I am middle aged. Which means,” she poked a finger hard into the dwarf’s chest for emphasis, “I will most certainly not be needing a guardian and Dwalin most certainly did not defile me.” She yelled the last words. “By Yavanna, who do you think locked the damnable doors to the Royal Baths? I did. Because I wanted to be alone with Dwalin. Me. And my dwarf.”

Dori gaped at her, face red with shock. Dief shook his head, lips pressed together, about to say something, but Bilba waved him off impatiently, instead walking over to Balin whose head was hung so low his forehead nearly touched the table.

She put an arm around his shoulders and took his hand. “Balin, look at me,” she said softly, and when he did she bent to give him a kiss on his cheek and smiled. “I love Dwalin. I have loved him since the moment I opened my door to let him into Bag End. And he loves me. We have been close since Rivendell, and ever since Laketown we knew that if we survived the dragon our future would be together.” Bilba patted the white-haired dwarf’s hand. “Our very lovely time in the Royal Baths,” Bilba shot a glare at Dori who huffed, “was the last step before we wanted to announce our betrothal to the whole mountain. We were only waiting for the arrival of Lady Dis and her caravan.”

Balin let out a shuddering breath and his eyes became moist. “Oh, lassie,” he choked out, reaching up to pull their foreheads together, “I’ll be honoured to have you as my naddûna.”

“It is an honour for the line of Durin, to call you one of our own, Bilba,” Thorin added, a small smile on his face. “We knew he had feelings for you, but we had no idea the both of you had sorted things out amongst yourselves like that.”

“Couldn’t you just ask him,” Bilba asked incredulously, “I mean, surely he would have told you?”

Fili shook his head slowly. “None of us has been able to speak to him, Bilba. The Itrêbmanal'ulgundu is a place of solitary confinement. A dwarf enters it if a dams family – or her appointed guardian,” he indicated at Dief with a sour look, “find his conduct in the courtship dishonourable. It is generally a good law, to safeguard our dams. You know we have very few and are quite protective of them.”

Bilba nodded. “I do know. But I am not a dam. I am a hobbit. And I want to see my dwarf.” She turned and placed her flat palms on the table, looking at Dief with a frown.

“It is impossible,” Dief said hotly, not wanting to budge, “He is in the Itrêbmanal'ulgundu where he will remain until he has fulfilled the demands put upon him.”

“By you?” Bilba asked deceptively sweet, cocking her head, “Demands you put upon him thinking you can play my guardian?”

The stuffy dwarf sputtered. “Well, there may have been a misunderstanding regarding your age, but as his Highness just explained, we are very protective of our dams. You might not be one, but you’re still a female, and defenseless against a-“

She marched around the table before he could even blink twice and yanked him down by his ear until they were almost nose to nose. “I am not defenseless, you blithering idiot. I am the very same female that had a discussion about cooking recipes with three trolls, who riddled with Smaug and who ran her sword into Azog’s heart. I have made the decision to give my love to Dwalin, son of Fundin, the most gorgeous dwarf in all of Arda. And ever since I kissed him in Rivendell I was sure he has given me his heart, too.” Bilba released the dwarf’s ear - not after giving it an extra yank for good measure, making the dwarf cringe in pain - and pressed a hand on her heart with a sigh. “And to think I was ready to leave Erebor believing Dwalin has turned away from me, that he was hiding because he regrets what happened in the Royal Baths ...” She shook her head with a shudder. “You will take me to him, now,” she said firmly, turning towards Thorin, “This farce is over. You will let him out of this Itrêbwhatsitsname and there will be no more talk of shaving or shearing. Ridiculous, meddlesome dwarrow.” She stomped her foot. 

Thorin shook his head. “I cannot let him out,” he told her earnestly with a grimace.

Bilba turned to him slowly, thinking she hadn’t heard correctly. But when she saw the regret on his face she relented. “And why not?’

“Because I do not know where he is. And even if I did know, I do not have the key to unlock him,” the King explained carefully, “And even if I did have the key I do not have the power since Dief has filed official complaints and signed them as well as the contracts of mahibnêth azlâf as your guardian. He ordered the Itrêbmanal'ulgundu – the Crafting Bunker - he is the only one who spoke to Dwalin and he is the only one who can let him out.”

“But we just established that I am a grown-up hobbit and do not need a guardian,” Bilba said in a sing-song voice, “Therefore I reckon the paperwork is nil and void. Ergo my dwarf can be released.” She looked at Dief through narrowed eyes. 

“You may be a grown up but according to our laws Dwalin has treated you wrong. You may not be a dam, but he is a dwarf, from a noble house at that. He should follow the rules. That means he should present his seven courting gifts to you, gifts of the finest quality, which have to be befitting his heritage and your status as the Hero of Erebor, presenting one gift per year, counting from the time you met for the first time, which I believe was April, which means the first gift is due soon. He will spend his time in the Crafting Bunker to craft his gifts for you, jewelry, weapons, armour, trinkets, one per year, which will be inspected by me and presented to you only if I approve of their quality-,” Dief got quite lost intoning those ridiculous courting rules until Bilba interrupted him with a dismissive wave of her hand.  
“Mathoms,” the hobbit breathed with a shudder, “You think I care for mathoms?”

Dief frowned when interrupted thusly. “Eh … What are mathoms?” he asked confused, looking at Gunnar who shrugged.

“It’s a hobbit word. It means things I do not need,” the hobbit said flatly, “Things that collect dust. I do not care for jewelry, for gems, for weapons, for armour or for trinkets. I do not care about that pedestal you have placed me on. Hero of Erebor, don’t make me laugh,” she snorted. “And I will most certainly not waste seven years of my life courting – I mean are you seriously suggesting we have to wait for seven years to get married just because you say so? What ridiculous nonsense! It’s fine if you feel you need to protect your dams in such a way, but I am a hobbit, and hobbits court with flowers and with food. We go for walks. And it rarely takes more than a few months from courting to marriage. And for your information, Dwalin has given me flowers at Beorn’s, and he has taken me on plenty of walks since then and even shared his precious cookies with me. After that all I want is him. In my life and in my bed. I want his love. And often. You know why?”

Both Dori and Gilsig had blushed and spluttered at her words. 

“Because I want his faunts,” Bilba smiled wistfully, ignoring them, “No hobbit was ever interested in me. Sure, some were interested in Bilba Baggins, but only because Bilba Baggins owns Bag End and is a rather well to do hobbit lass. But none were ever really interested in me. I have long given up hope to have my own family. You should know that hobbits have a lot of children. At my age most lasses have been wed for a decade or longer and have at least five or six faunts. I am well behind. And my childbearing time edges closer to its end with every year. Now I found someone who loves me and is willing to spend what years I have left by my side and you seriously think I will waste my time following your old fashioned and stale rules? I ask you again to bring me to my Dwalin, right now.” She stomped her foot. “Frankly,” she continued, “throwing an angry look at the present members of the Company around the table, “I cannot believe you all were stupid enough to go along with this nonsense. You should know me better. You should know Dwalin better. Why has none of you thought of talking to me? And surely,” she waved an accusing finger into Dief’s face, “Surely, Dwalin has explained that he and I have an understanding and were only waiting for Lady Dis to arrive to make things official.”

The dwarf avoided her eyes. 

Bilbo harrumphed. “I thought so. I ask you again: bring me to him. Now.”

Dief looked sour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul thanks to The Dwarrow Scholar, with some wranglings of my own.  
> Naddûna - Brother Lady  
> mahibnêth azlâf - pledging of + betrothal: I see it essentially as an agreement to show the dwarf’s intent of following through with the courtship rules: abstain from any sexual activities with the dam, craft the first courtship gift, which –once accepted by the family or the guardian- will be followed by six more. If no mahibnêth azlâf is signed or the dwarf’s conduct is questionable (i.e. he pursues the dam in any way that is deemed dishonourable) the family/guardian can demand he enters the Itrêbmanal'ulgundu, the Crafting Bunker, from which he will only be released if he produces an exceptional first gift for his dam.


	6. Salvation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which all will be well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Visuals help me to get inspired, which is why I have created a Pinterest page for my fan fiction:  
> www.pinterest.com.au/cuptivate/ - this story now has its own board

… previously … Bilbo harrumphed. “I thought so. I ask you again: bring me to him. Now.”

Dief looked sour.

…  
“Otherwise,” Bilba stated, hands on her hips and her eyes very hard now, “I will file some paperwork of my own. I’m sure there are some laws that forbid interference such as yours and basically incarcerating an honorable dwarf – my betrothed by hobbit standards - who has done nothing wrong, on the count of false witnesses,” she shot a dark look at Dori, who had at least the grace to look contrite, “And to flatter your own ego by declaring yourself the guardian of the Hero of Erebor. Furthermore you deprive the Kingdom of her Captain of the Guard and the King of his Bodyguard, even though he has - as you said yourself - explained the situation. And I feel very much I should include a request for restitution for what you have put me through these past days, where I thought he has turned away from me for good, and even more: what you intent to put me through for seven more years?” Bilba shook her head again at the ridiculousness of the whole idea. “And I will leave Erebor to live in Mirkwood, with the elves, but not before writing a letter to the Lady Dis, apologizing that we will never meet as I refuse to return to this mountain until my dwarf is back in my arms, where he belongs. And you,” she gave Dief a dark look, ”have the honour of explaining to her and to the whole mountain why the Hero of Erebor has left for good.”

Everyone in the room flinched when Bilba mentioned the elves and even more when she mentioned Dis.   
Thorin cleared his throat. “I believe Miss Baggins’ points are very valid, Master Dief.”

“Indeed,” Fili agreed immediately, “And you do not want my mother as enemy.” The Crown Prince added bluntly with a shudder.

“My brother is a honourable dwarf,” Balin said earnestly, “I told you before that whatever the situation may have appeared to be,” he glared at Dori meaningfully, “It should have been discussed with all the parties involved first before running off and taking matters into your own hands.”

“If hobbits reach no more than one hundred years than Bilba is – all things considered – as good as on par with Dwalin, age wise.” Gloin added, “And no dwarf that values his beard would dare to tell a dam in her middle years who she can choose as a mate, family or not. I see no reason to continue with the Itrêbmanal'ulgundu.”

Bilba smiled at her fellow Companions before turning to Dief with a frown. She held his gaze until he bowed his head in defeat. 

“Lead the way, Master Dwarf,” Bilba said, indicating him to walk ahead with a flourish.

The walk to release Dwalin from his involuntary confinement turned into a small procession as the whole Small Council followed Dief deep into the mountain. 

Bilba’s mood switched between anger against Dori and Dief and worry for Dwalin. What would he have been thinking, being locked away like that? The last time he was locked up was in Thranduil’s dungeon, and he didn’t take it very well. Did he regret having met her after all? Did he regret what they did in the Royal Baths? 

Heart beating in her chest her fingers clenched in the folds of her dress. Balin walked beside her, his face solemn. Yavanna, how concerned he must have been. That thought brought the anger back. Fools, the lot of them. Why did none of them talk to her? Bebother and confusticate these males. It was high time that Dis arrived, to help her knock some sense into them. From all Bilba had heard of the dam, she had a feeling they’d be getting along just fine.

Finally the group of them walked through a very dark corridor deep in the mountain, behind the forges. The area was uncleared and rubble was littering the stone floor. Bilba tripped at the uneven ground more than once - the limited visibility not helping either - until Thorin took a hold of her arm to steady her. 

Dief stopped at a door and unlocked it with the key he pulled out from under his coat, hanging from a fine chain round his neck. 

The heavy door swung inwards and Bilba pushed past all of them and rushed inside. 

The room was small. 

Tiny, in fact. A bed to one side, holding a small pillow and a thin blanket that was neatly folded. It made Bilba smile; in such things Dwalin was a dwarf of discipline. 

The table on the other hand was littered with parchment that showed sketches of various designs – Bilba could make out beads, a ring and a dagger - a tin plate with a small piece of cheese and bread and tin cup on one side. Bilba sniffled in disdain at the look of the 'meal'.  
The biggest part of the room was taken by several work tables that held tools and a haphazard amount of gems - and a forge. 

That’s where Dwalin was. In nothing more than his breeches and a tunic, hammering away on a piece of metal. He had his back turned to them and didn’t notice them until he pushed said piece of metal into the fire with an angry grunt and threw the hammer down with a curse. 

He wiped a hand over his face with a tired air. 

Then he turned around. 

And he saw them. 

For a moment he froze, then he frowned. Then his eyes found her and narrowed with worry when he saw her tense face and the shadows under her eyes.

“Bilba,” he grumbled unhappily, “Lass, what’s wrong. Why do you look so tired? Are you alright? Has anyone hurt you?”

She smiled and bounced forward, throwing herself into his arms. He caught her with a grunt. 

She wound her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder, just so relieved to have him back. 

“Mahal, lass,” he spoke again, “What has happened? How are you even here?”

Bilba pulled back a little to look into his face. “Do you still love me?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his response.

His arms tightened around her small frame and he tapped his forehead gently against hers. “Always, my Bilba,” he mumbled. 

She smiled and gave him a peck to his lips. “Good.” She wriggled for him to put her back on her feet, which he did, keeping a steadying hand in the small of her back. 

Bilba turned to face the other dwarrow. “I will have no more misunderstandings,” she said in a firm voice, “I am of age and free to choose whom I spend my life with. As is Dwalin. I do not care for mathoms, and I do not have seven years to wait for him to be done courting me the dwarrow way. We have courted the hobbit way, and I am happy with that, and so is he. We consider ourselves betrothed. Dwalin and I will discuss and plan our wedding, and nobody else. The only things I want from him are his time, and his attention, and his love. And with Yavanna’s blessing that will lead to fauntlings.” 

Dori and Gunnar flinched again, Gislig turned as red as Merinda Proudfoot’s priced beetroot, Dief didn’t look too happy about being stripped of his self-appointed role as guardian of the Hero of Erebor, but he seemed past trying to force his opinions on them. 

Dwalin breathed a ‘Mahal, Bilba’ at her declaration, Thorin’s eyes twinkled with mirth, Fili right-out grinned, Balin chuckled with a relieved and happy smile on his face and Gloin stroked his beard with a fond look, no doubt thinking of his wife, counting the days until their reunion. 

Bilba smiled widely at them all. “And that is all there is to it. But should it happen again that anyone thinks they can meddle in my personal affairs,” she gave a hard look to Dief and Dori, “They should already say goodbye to their eyebrows.” She waved her hand impatiently. “Now, go away,” she told the assembled dwarrow with great finality.

Balin took the opportunity to quickly tap foreheads with his brother and give Bilba a hug, before making his way out the door.

It took not long for them all to file out the room and the noise of the stomping of their boots to be receding in the distance, Thorin closed the door with a cheeky wink.

Bilba turned to look at Dwalin. 

“Lass,” he said, reaching for her hand, “I am sorry they upset you. Dief gave me little choice. I did not want to make things worse by fighting him.”

She snorted. “So I’ve heard. Idiots, the lot of them.”

He bent and kissed her forehead. “I figured since you got me out of Thranduil’s dungeon you’d get me out of here as well, my clever hobbit.”

Bilba nodded. “Yes, but I did worry an awful lot. I was almost ready to leave Erebor because I feared you don’t want me anymore. Never mind that now though. You wait till Dis hears about all of this. I almost feel sorry for Dief. Tell me though,” she said, moving into his space and searching his eyes, “Do you regret what happened in the Royal Baths?”

He immediately shook his head and drew her closer. “No, never,” he rumbled, “It has been the most wonderful, amazingly beautiful thing that has ever happened to me in all my long life. I do not regret it for a moment.”

Bilba smiled. “Good.”

“You ... you really want a pebble with me?” he asked with a husky voice, “I mean, we’ve talked about it before, but ... you haven’t changed your mind? They ... they haven’t scared you away?”

Grinning up at him she shook her head. “Nobody scares me away from you, you silly dwarf. As long as you want me I am not going anywhere,” she said softly and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, not caring about the sweaty tunic or the soot on his face.

His arms came around her and he held her easily when she jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Her hands combed through his beard and she wriggled a bit, relishing in his strength. “So ... you busy with something?” she asked innocently, batting her eyelashes at him.

Dwalin chuckled. “I was working on some gifts for you, some small things - no mathoms don’t you worry - but none seem good enough for my hobbit just yet, so I might need some ... inspiration.” He grinned but his eyes darkened and his voice dropped until it was like sweet, sticky honey down her spine and heat pooled in her belly. 

Bilba shuddered. Dear Yavanna, there was no point fighting that feeling. 

“At your service,” she murmured, pulling at his beard to bring his lips closer. 

 

~ THE END ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul thanks to The Dwarrow Scholar  
> Itrêbmanal'ulgundu - Crafting Bunker
> 
> That’s it, the end of my first multi-chapter story.   
> Thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos xxx


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